


Courage to Grow Up

by wishingonglaciers



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Canon compliant through Season 2, Hurt Sheriff Stilinksi, M/M, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinksi's name is John, Sterek endgame, Stiles wears glasses! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingonglaciers/pseuds/wishingonglaciers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sheriff Stilinski is seriously injured on the job, he is hospitalized for an extended period. Stiles (recently 18) is home alone. The Sheriff asks for some things out of his bedroom, and Stiles finds some mail he certainly hadn't gotten out of the box. Stiles steps up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> This story includes events through Season 2. However, it is canon divergent after that point, even though I may use some elements from later seasons. I am also going with Stiles being 17 before the beginning of his junior year. There is some OOC, but hopefully it isn't unreasonable. I hope you all enjoy this.

Sheriff Stilinski had been working night shifts for most of the summer. Stiles was relieved that there was somewhat of a lull after the resolution of the Kanima situation – even if Jackson was still an asshole. He just had to up his plans for Lydia to the fifteen-year plan. No big deal. Stiles was enjoying the time to sleep in and play video games, even spending a little bit of time with his father during the days. Stiles and his dad had been drifting apart ever since the werewolf business began last year. 

Stiles was playing his way through Diablo III when the Sheriff knocked on his door. 

“Stiles, I’m leaving for work. I’ll be back before you wake up tomorrow, why don’t we try and do something tomorrow afternoon?” John had enjoying this time to reconnect with his son even more than Stiles. He and his son had always been incredibly close, especially since Claudia’s death, and John missed that. 

“Okay, Dad. Sounds good, stay safe.” The summer had been quiet in Beacon Hills, and Stiles was relieved to not have to be in overdrive worry-mode for his father’s safety (even if he still worried, especially about his heart with those hamburgers). As soon as he heard the front door close, he pulled his police scanner – which he was reasonably sure his father didn’t know he had – out of the closet. 

It was pushing three in the morning when Stiles finally started to save and shut down his game. He yawned, putting the game back into its case. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, going into the bathroom to take out his contacts, which he’d left in too long – again. Another pair down the drain. The contacts were certainly a blessing; he was already awkward enough without the glasses. Even though teasing about the glasses had stopped around the fifth grade, Stiles was still happy to wear contacts instead. He walked out of the bathroom and heard a crackle on the radio. 

“10-98 dispatch. Coming in to eat.” It was his Dad. 10-98, so he’d finished an assignment. Probably keeping the citizens of Beacon Hills down at 35 mph and letting the crying girls get off scott-free (unlike that time his dad caught him speeding!) There was a bit more static, and then:

“10-83, 515 Oak Avenue.” Domestic disturbance? Stiles hoped it wasn’t too bad. Those calls were always rough for everyone. Luckily the worst that had ever happened to his dad was getting hit in the head with a plate – and only two stitches. 

“10-4, on my way.” The Sheriff had this one. His dad would be fine, and now Stiles could go to bed. He finally managed to drift off around 4 AM, after only about thirty minutes of playing games on his phone. It was getting really hard to fall asleep these days. 

Stiles fell out of bed at 7:12 that morning, to the shrill ringing of his cell phone. Why was Mrs. McCall calling him this early? He’d only just gotten to sleep, damn it! He scrambled to unlock it and answer.  
“Hello?”

“Stiles, it’s Mrs. McCall. Are you at home? Scott mentioned that you two may have gone to hang out with Isaac last night.” Great. Scott was having him cover his ass again without even giving Stiles a heads up. 

“No, we’re still at mine, Mrs. McCall. Do you want me to wake him up?”

“Stiles, I’ve been on call since midnight last night. Honey, your dad was brought in an hour ago. He was injured answering a domestic disturbance call. He has two gunshot wounds, and they’re going to take him into surgery soon. Can you get here quickly? Have Scott drive you.” Stiles exhaled quickly, and wasn’t able to get his breath back.

“Stiles, deep breaths, just try to get here as soon as you can.” Stiles was already rushing to get pants on, trying to get his glasses on at the same time. His hands were shaking badly enough that he poked himself in the eye.

“I’m on my way.” He hung up. Stiles didn’t want to bother with anything other than getting to the hospital as fast as possible. He flew down the stairs and clambered into his Jeep, taking off down the road. 

After nearly side swiping some idiot’s parked SUV, Stiles parked at the hospital. He ran inside, only to be stopped by Mrs. McCall.

“They’ve taken him back into surgery already. They’re expecting it to take a few hours. Why don’t you just sit down over here and I’ll bring you a glass of water.” She steered him over to a row of chairs down the hallway. 

“Just coffee, please.” Stiles settled in to wait, staring at the wall. His dad has to be okay – Stiles hadn’t worked so hard to keep his father safe for it to all go to hell over some couple fighting. Stiles was finally able to zone out. 

Three and a half hours later, Stiles saw Dr. Nelson walking towards him from the other side of the floor. He nearly fell out of his chair, getting up and walking toward the doctor. 

“How’s my dad? Is he okay? How did the surgery go? Were there any complications? When can I see him?” Stiles’s questions came out a garbled mess. Luckily Dr. Nelson seemed to understand. 

“The Sheriff is still alive. We were able to repair the muscle damage from the first wound in his leg; the bullet completely missed the bone and the femoral artery. However, the second bullet perforated his lung, which collapsed on the way to the hospital. We reinflated the lung and put internal stitches in the perforation. Now, this is a waiting game, with risks of infection and pneumonia. The Sheriff should be waking up soon, but he is on a heavy pain medication, and will be for the next few days. He’ll be groggy.” 

Stiles could deal with groggy. He just needed to lay eyes on his dad right now, proof of life. He just needed to see. “Take me too him, please.” Dr. Nelson showed him up to a room in recovery on the next floor up. His dad looked peaceful, the bandages covered up by the blanket. The Sheriff was breathing deeply, looking like he was only sleeping. He blinked, starting to wake up.

“Dad, you’re alright, you’re just in the hospital.” Stiles tried to reassure his dad, who was frowning and looked confused.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah Dad, I’m here.” Stiles took his Dad’s hand and sat down, ready to sit for the long haul.


	2. Second Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds out more about his dad's condition, both with his injury and with his finances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not meant to be a super realistic medical situation, okay? I'm not a doctor, or whatever.

Lucky enough for Stiles (and his Dad), school didn’t start for another six weeks. Stiles was able to stay at the hospital almost non stop for the next two days, going home to sleep only when Mrs. McCall made him, and coming back as soon as she was off shift. His dad had small moments of coherency when he was awake, but had been seriously under the influence of painkillers the rest of the time. The doctors were cutting back on his dad’s painkillers today, so that they could up his antibiotics without anything conflicting.

The Sheriff was finally, finally starting to come around at about six in the morning, three days after his surgery. Stiles had gone down the hall to get another coke, and heard coughing from his dad’s room. Stiles ran as fast as he could back to the room, bumping his head on the doorframe in his haste. He threw himself back into the chair at his dad’s bedside and tried to seem relaxed. 

“Stiles?” His dad’s voice was thin and scratchy – he clearly hadn’t used it for a few days. 

“Hey Dad, how’re you doing?” 

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“Dad, it’s the summer, remember?” Stiles grew a little concerned.

“Oh, right. Have you been here the whole time? You should go home and sleep.” This seemed a little bit more like his dad. His dad was fine, everything was going to be okay.

Stiles could hear Dr. Nelson from down the hallway, talking to a nurse. His dad had woken up just after shift change – the night resident had been by to take most of the painkillers out of his IV about five hours ago. Dr. Nelson walked in to check out his dad.

“Good morning, Stiles, Sheriff, it’s good to see you awake. How’re you feeling this morning?” The doctor asked, picking up the Sheriff’s chart. 

“Well, I feel like I got shot in the chest.” His dad was blunt as ever. The sheriff’s voice was still weak.

“That’s certainly the case Sheriff Stilinski. How is your breathing? Do you feel at all congested?” Dr. Nelson was pulling up some numbers on the machine monitoring the Sheriff’s vitals. 

“My breathing is fine, I’m just a little congested.” The Sheriff had started to wheeze. 

Dr. Nelson put a hand on the Sheriff’s shoulder and prompted him to take some deep breaths, slowly. “Sheriff, you have a fever of about 102F, and the congestion and difficulty breathing leads me to believe that you’ve developed pneumonia. This combined with your injury is cause for concern. I’m afraid that you’re going to have to stay with us for a while.” 

Stiles’s heart dropped straight into his stomach. He thought he was going to throw up. His dad was supposed to be able to come home and rest in like a week, not have to stay at the hospital for who knows how long. He had been hoping to spend even more time with his dad this summer – but those plans did not involve the hospital. 

“Goddamn…fine, thank you Dr. Nelson.” His dad sighed unhappily. “Stiles, you look like crap, son, go home and take a nap. You can come back at noon, no earlier, and when you do, can you bring me the book on the table by my bed? Thanks, kid.” His dad wasn’t leaving him a lot of wiggle room, he didn’t want to go, but Stiles also wanted to make sure his dad had whatever he needed to be comfortable. 

“Okay dad, fine. Is there anything else you need me to bring you?”

“Well kid, if they’ll let you bring me a cheeseburger….”

Stiles huffed out a laugh, “Nice try, dad. I’ll see you at noon.”

Stiles shuffled out the room, looking back at his dad before closing the door. John looked like he was gearing down to go back to sleep. Good, his dad needed the rest if he was going to kick the pneumonia ASAP. Stiles hoped that the workman’s comp would cover the whole thing.

Stiles drove home without the radio on. Stress when someone you love is in the hospital is just so loud – he needed the quiet for a while. He hopped out of the jeep, checking his phone as he got he dug the house key out of the long empty planter. Scott had sent him a single text:

From Scott: "Thanks for covering for me with my mom bro. Was with Isaac, knew u wouldnt mind"

Scott was so frustrating sometimes. It’s not that much to send someone a text if you’re telling your parent that’s where you’re sleeping. 

To Scott: "Nbd, see you later."

Stiles went in his house. He was so tired, but he didn’t think he could sleep. But he could try and rest for a while. He trudged up the stairs and took his shoes off, lying down on his bed. 

Stiles woke up at 11:30, glasses crooked and half off. He took his glasses and bent them back into shape, putting them back on. It was hard to wear contacts when his schedule was so weird – his eyes were getting dried out. He blinked several times. Looking at the clock, he rolled out of bed. He took a quick five-minute shower, redressing quickly. He hurried into his dad’s room, and found the book on his night table. Under the books he saw some letters with red print on the front. Stiles was almost always the one to get the mail, with how their schedules differed. 

“Second notice.” Stiles murmured, reading the text off of the envelope. He sat down on his dad’s bed and started rifling through the envelopes. There were four, all with second notice written on them. One was from the power company, and another from the bank, and then two from credit card companies. Stiles knew that sometimes they didn’t have all the money in the world, but he had honestly thought that he and his dad were fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is kind of moving slowly/short chapters, but I'm new at this.


	3. Sheriff's Files

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds out even more about their finances. When a family is struggling to stay afloat - everyone has to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometime's everyone's gotta chip in.

Stiles put down the mail and quickly turned around and exited his dad’s room. He’d honestly thought they were fine. There was grocery money for him to do the shopping each week in the jar in the kitchen and his dad had seemed so much less stressed lately. Normally he could pick up on when something was up with his dad fairly easily. 

Stiles resolved to put it out of his mind when he was at the hospital. He could worry about it the next time he left to go home and get some sleep and grab a shower. He parked and went into the hospital, walking more slowly this time around, gathering his thoughts before he had to pretend nothing was wrong for the rest of the night. 

He took a deep breath and opened the door to his dad’s room. “Hey Dad, how’re you feeling?” He walked in to sit down and saw that his dad was still sleeping. He set the book down on the night table and took residence in his chair once again. Stiles hadn’t slept very well that morning, for all he slept more than he meant to, and quickly began to nod off. 

“Stiles, kid, wake up.” Stiles shook himself awake to his dad weakly nudging his shoulder. “I’m sorry that I was sleeping when you got back – the nurse said that you waited until noon to come back. But go home and go back to bed, you still look exhausted, and it’s not as if I’m going anywhere.”

Stiles groaned, “Come on, Dad. I’m fine.”

“Son, the doctor said I’d be here for a while. It’s going to be fine. Go home, get some rest, and stay out of trouble. Maybe give Scott a call and see if he wants to play games with you or something.”

 

Stiles frowned and leaned forward to gently hug his dad. “Okay, fine, you’re the boss, Sheriff.” Stiles stood up and shook himself out a little. He was feeling a little cramped from his poor sleeping position. He gave his dad a little wave and walked out of the room, yelling “Love you, dad!” on the way out. 

Stiles left the hospital, surprised to see that it was now getting dark outside. He’d thought he’d only been asleep for about an hour or so! And he still felt tired…goddamn. Stiles found the Jeep in the parking lot and climbed in, driving home. He let the radio play this time around.

When Stiles got home, he kicked off his shoes and fell into bed. The problem was that while his body still felt totally exhausted, his mind was very much awake and raring to go. After tossing and turning for a good twenty minutes, Stiles mind jumped back to the bills on his dad’s nightstand. He had no way to find out how bad things really were without actually opening the envelopes – which would definitely piss his dad off something fierce. 

The Sheriff was going to be in the hospital for a while. Stiles knew that since his dad was injured on a call that he would get some workman’s comp for the injury, but sometimes that can only go so far – especially with a public services job. If they were under any kind of financial stress, his dad couldn’t really afford not to work. Even with the medical expenses covered by the county, they would still need a cash flow. 

Stiles rolled out of his bed to go investigate. Even if he couldn’t open the second notice envelopes, there may be the original notices already opened in his dad’s room somewhere. He started to carefully look through the drawers in his dad’s night table. He pulled out two procedural cop novels out of the bottom drawer. “Come on, dad, bookshelves. Get with the program.” Stiles muttered, not that he had room to talk with the state of his bedroom. 

A BHPD file folder had been tucked beneath the books. His dad had never really gone to too much trouble to hide police files from him – he figured that his dad knew he’d get at them anyway – so this must be something else. He carefully pulled it out, trying not to disturb the junk tucked around it. He opened it and started flipping through its contents, sitting on his dad’s bed. There were the first notices – his dad was ten days late on the phone bill – that’s not too bad, Stiles could actually pay that out of his own pocket until his dad got out of the hospital. 

Stiles kept flipping through, finding a few “Understanding Your Bill” documents, etc. All of the sudden, Stiles hit pay dirt. There were notices from three weeks ago, the beginning of July, from Beacon Hills Hospital, asking for a late payment of $750 dollars within the next month, along with the regular payment of $300. How far behind did his dad have to be for a late payment fee that high? And what was this even for? Neither of them had had hospital serious injuries in a while. Stiles flipped the page over, finding a statement of what the payments were for. 

“MOTHERFUCKER.” Stiles shouted. This was for his mother’s fucking treatment. She had had health insurance goddamn it; she was dead! Why did his dad still have to pay this off! With balances this high, no wonder his dad was struggling to keep afloat and pay household bills when he had this to deal with. What the fuck were they supposed to do? If he wasn’t supposed to know, and his dad stuck in the hospital, who was going to deal with this? 

It hit Stiles like a slap in the face. He’d already put so much on his dad, lying to him and getting him fired. He was going to have to start helping out. Stiles has to get a job.


	4. Job Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Restaurants made up, etc.   
> Stiles is a smart kid, while I think canonically a lot of the kids on Teen Wolf are pretty oblivious to the non-supernatural, I think that he has the potential to figure these things out and act accordingly. His dad is in the hospital and he has no other family. He's 18 and if his dad were to have died he would have been dealing with all this anyway.

Stiles thought that he was at least finally eighteen. That was going to open up his options a lot. Stiles doesn’t really remember how Scott got himself hooked up with his gig at Deaton’s. It was time for some of Stiles’s not so famous Google-fu. He found his laptop under some shirts and sat down on his floor. He pulled up the search engine and typed “how to get a job at 18 and still in school”. He figured he needed some parameters – there was no way he could score some kind of daytime gig with resumes and shit. 

A Yahoo answers was the first result. This had never made too much sense to Stiles; one would think that there would be some sort of Google answers so that those could be first in the hits. The page said that he should be looking in to jobs in food service, because in high school it was pretty hard to find much else without a family friend. Most of Stiles’s family friends were cops working for his dad – so that wouldn’t really get him anywhere. It also said to look on Craigslist for openings. Stiles was a little put off by the idea of Craigslist – wasn’t there that “Craigslist Killer” a few years ago? But he put it in the back of his mind. 

Stiles pulled up Craigslist, Beacon County and went into the food/beverage/hospitality section. There were ten positions listed just from today! He opened a few of the descriptions, but there were only three that were open to applicants with no experience. There was a pizza place, a taco place, and an ice cream place. All of them were outside of Beacon Hills, but still close by, which was good for Stiles. He didn’t really want to be running into his friends, people from school, or his dad’s deputies. He still hadn’t even talked to Scott about what had happened with his dad.

The three ads said to send an email in response to the ad expressing interest. Stiles had learned how to write “professional emails” in English class his sophomore year. 

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Stiles Stilinski, and I am writing in response to your Craigslist ad for back of house staff. I am very interested in the position, and I feel that I would be an asset to your team. I am available to begin work immediately and am %100 flexible on scheduling until school begins. I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss the job further, and look forward to hearing from you.

Best regards,  
Stiles Stilinski

Stiles personally thought that this was a little stiff, but it was likely better to be stiff than too informal with these things. Stiles decided to try and get a bit more done, since it would probably take the restaurants a day or two to get back to him. 

Stiles went back to Google and searched “ways to save money, household budgeting”. It sounded lame and probably wasn’t the best usage of key words, but the search got what Stiles needed. He found a tacky “mommy blog” to read, and, as embarrassing as it was to have this pink monstrosity opened in his browser, it had a lot of tips on cutting back on household spending and decreasing bills. 

One of the ideas mentioned was eliminating smart phones. Some of the paragraph was spent discussing why teens didn’t need them, but it made mathematical sense. Stiles could still text and receive calls using his old flip phone, and as addicting as Candy Crush is, he could definitely live without it. This was also something he could do without his dad really picking up on it. 

Stiles pulled up the Verizon website. As he waited for it to load, he went downstairs into the kitchen, and opening the cabinet, found where his dad kept a list of important info, like passwords. He made his way upstairs and entered the information into the website. Stiles grabbed his old phone out of his desk. He’d gotten this phone after his mom died and his dad was worried about leaving him alone so much without someone else to call. He didn’t get a nicer phone until he was in high school. 

He navigated the pages until he was able to view the devices. He opened up the page on his phone and cancelled it. Then he went to the FAQ and went through the process to activate the flip phone. After this he set the plan up to change at the beginning of the next month to a non-data plan, which would save about $50 a month. Then Stiles pulled out the phone bill statement and found the preaddressed payment envelope, put in some of the money from his emergency cash stash, and sealed it up and put it in an outgoing pile. 

He had about $400 left in his desk. Stiles had generally hoarded money whenever he got it, really only needed it for Jeep related purposes. He took $300 of it to pay the regular payment to the hospital. The late payment fee was just going to have to wait until he could figure more things out. Stiles didn’t know if they actually would or not, but this would hopefully keep him from bothering his dad, since the hospital kind of had a monopoly on his time right now. Stiles went downstairs and found some stamps in the junk drawer in the kitchen, and put both envelopes in the mailbox. Then he went to bed.


	5. Getting the Gig

Stiles woke up the next morning, reaching for his phone to turn off the alarm. His hand hit the nightstand, and he remembered that he didn’t have a smartphone anymore - no alarm. He reached over and opened the flip phone, seeing that it was just after 10:00. Stiles went over to his closet and dug around, finding his old plug in alarm clock, and set it up on his desk. Jumping up and down a few times to wake up, Stiles went to take a shower and get ready to head over to see his dad. 

When he got to the hospital, the Sheriff was dead asleep. He looked peaceful, his face even when sleeping was usually pinched with pain. The hospital could only give him so many painkillers. Stiles was glad that his dad was finally resting better. Stiles kept in the doorway, not wanting to wake up the Sheriff. Stiles needed to get home and back to his computer to check his email, since he couldn’t just check it on the go anymore. 

Everything felt louder today, and Stiles wasn’t really feeling the radio. He turned it off slowly, hoping the world would get somewhat less deafening. He pulled up in his driveway and killed the engine, sitting in the front seat for a few minutes. He hauled himself out of the car and back into the house. Stiles got a pop tart and some orange juice and went back into his bedroom. He logged into his email.

Stiles Stilinski,

My name is Rob Alteri, the general manager at Alteri’s Pizza in Beacon Heights. I would like to discuss the position with you further in person. I have an opening this afternoon at 1 PM. Please respond if you are still interested in the position to confirm the interview.

Best,

Rob Alteri

Stiles did a fist pump. Beacon Heights was only about twenty minutes from his house and he loves pizza! He looked down at his alarm clock and saw that it was 11:30. He googled job interview tactics and tried to absorb as much as possible. He dug around in his closet and found some slacks and a nice shirt. Stiles then went into his dad’s room with a small shudder, he didn’t want to be in here ever since he found out about the bills. He looked through his dad’s ties, and picked one out. Stiles knew that he was always supposed to ask, but his dad would never know - kind of stuck in the hospital for a while.

It was finally time for the interview. Stiles reviewed the instructions he’d printed out again, and got in the jeep to drive to his first ever job interview. He motored out of Beacon Hills, trying to muster up some confidence. Stiles had never had a job before and couldn’t cook for shit. But he couldn’t think that way - he had to convince Mr. Alteri that he was the best potential pizza chef of any candidate. 

Stiles finally got to Alteri’s Pizza after taking only two wrong turns. He parked his jeep and took a few deep breaths, getting amped up for the interview. He walked into Alteri’s five minutes early. Stiles went up to the host. 

“Hi, I’m Stiles. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Alteri at 1 o’clock.”

“Oh hey man, I’m Damian. I’ll go let the boss man know you’re here. Good luck.”

Damian looked a little scruffy, but he was huge. It wasn’t very often that someone like that is seen working front of house. Stiles took a seat on the bench next to the front exit, jiggling his leg. Stiles wanted so badly for this interview to go well.

A man about Stiles’s height walked out from the kitchen. He looked to be in his late thirties, a little portly, in shabby jeans and a chef’s jacket. 

“Hey kid, I’m Rob. Thanks for coming in. Why don’t we sit down over here and get started?” Rob slapped a hand down on Stiles’s shoulder and started leading him toward the opposite side of the restaurant.

“How’re you doing today, kid?”

“I’m doing well, sir, how’re you?” Stiles tried to be as polite as possible, basically the opposite of everything he ever wanted to say to Mr. Harris. 

“Don’t call me sir, kid, now, tell me about yourself.” If Rob didn’t want to be called sir, then why would he keep calling Stiles kid? 

“Well, I’m Stiles Stilinski. I’m 18 and entering my senior year at Beacon Hills High. I’m an honor student. This would be my first job but I am prepared to work incredibly hard.”

“Alright, we can work with that. What does your availability look like?”

“I want to work as much as possible. I am 100% open until school starts.” Stiles needed as many hours as possible to get on the other side of these bills. 

“Good, we need someone to put in a lot of hours.” Rob said, nodding. “And, you’re 18 so you can handle all of the equipment in the back. Can you lift 50 pounds from the ground?”

“Yes, I can.” 

“Well, you seem like an okay kid. I’ll take you on as an Assistant Cook for now - on a provisional basis, understand, you’ve gotta keep up.”

“Can do, Rob, absolutely, you won’t be sorry.”

Rob shook Stiles’s hand so hard that Stiles could almost feel his bones grind. “Alright kid, let’s get you a uniform. You get two jackets, but you have to get your own shoes. Non slip, can’t be falling over all the time. Pants wise, just wear some jeans that you don’t care if they get food on them. No facial piercings, no visible tattoos, pretty standard. Understand?” Rob dumped jackets into Stiles’s hands.

“Yes, got it, Rob.”

“Okay, be here at 10AM tomorrow, you’re working 10-10.”


	6. In the Interim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between the job offer and the first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is super short, but it's been forever and I wanted to give you all a little something. More to come soon (before end of next week, I swear). I hope to get into a regular posting schedule in January.

Last time:   
Rob shook Stiles’s hand so hard that Stiles could almost feel his bones grind. “Alright kid, let’s get you a uniform. You get two jackets, but you have to get your own shoes. Non slip, can’t be falling over all the time. Pants wise, just wear some jeans that you don’t care if they get food on them. No facial piercings, no visible tattoos, pretty standard. Understand?” Rob dumped jackets into Stiles’s hands.

“Yes, got it, Rob.”

“Okay, be here at 10AM tomorrow, you’re working 10-10.”

Stiles drove home, bouncing around his seat in excitement. He’d gotten a job! He was going to get enough hours to make a decent amount of money. A little bit of his anxiety had eased. Stiles decided he still wanted to go see his dad this afternoon. Stiles considered whether or not to tell his father about his new job. On the plus side, his dad wouldn’t worry about him being unsupervised for so long. Stiles was hell when he was bored. The negative, however, would be any questions his dad would have. Stiles hadn’t expressed interest in getting a job before, and his new interest might spark questions in the Sheriff. 

Stiles continued to contemplate the issue as he drove home. As he was pulling into his driveway, Stiles decided that it might be best not to tell his Dad about the job. He could always tell him about it later. Stiles wandered into the house, planning on taking a short nap before going to visit his Dad. 

\------

Stiles pulled into the hospital parking lot, parked, and lay his head on the steering wheel. As much as he was looking forward to seeing his Dad, he was definitely not looking forward to it at all. It was uncomfortable to see his dad lying in a hospital bed, especially after all the time that his Mom had spent in the hospital prior to her death. 

Walking into the hospital, Stiles saw Mrs. McCall and quickly dodged around a corner. He knew how tired he looks, and he really didn’t want to put up with any questions she might ask about Scott. He took an alternate route to his Dad’s room.


	7. Killing Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - I'm in grad school and I have two jobs, ya feel me? More soon.

Stiles rolled out of bed before the alarm, already groaning about how early it was. He grabbed around for the clock, finding that it was only 6:30. He had about three hours before he had to leave for work. Getting out of bed, Stiles put on his glasses and wandered downstairs. He was used to the house being empty, because of his dad’s propensity toward working night shifts. Unfortunately, it wasn’t work keeping the Sheriff away from the house today, so Stiles felt it all the more.

Stiles cast about for ideas on what to do before work. He finally decided to make some muffins. He had eggs and milk that were about to go off – and now he was only one person. Stiles would be able to drop off one or two for the Sheriff before he went to work. Grabbing ingredients somewhat haphazardly shoved into the cabinets, Stiles set to work.

After the deliberation and the baking, Stiles had managed to kill about an hour and a half. Now he had just the right amount of time to get ready and go see his father before leaving for work. Stiles set the muffins out on the corner to cool and trudged back up the stairs. He went into his closet and started looking for his good pair of jeans – the ones that were a little looser and had no holes. He figured they’d cut it for the decent jeans piece of his uniform. He showered and dressed.

Stiles quickly put in his contacts, with all the ease of a thousand mornings’s practice. He grabbed the muffins and then jogged out to the jeep. Hopping in, he turned on the radio and set off toward the hospital. Stiles only got about three blocks before he had to turn the radio off again. 

When Stiles got to the hospital, he realized that he didn’t have anything other than the baggies to put the muffins in to. Would he need to hide them from the nurses? These should be easy enough on his dad’s stomach, even if he’s having issues from the painkillers. Stiles finally just decided to walk in like he knew exactly what the score was, and hopefully no one would stop him.

Unsurprisingly, no one did. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been a regular fixture here the last few days. He probably blends in with the artificial trees. He is certainly gangly enough.


	8. First day, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Stiles's first day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. Sorry for taking so long to update. Multiple jobs and grad school kills. Hopefully, I'll have more regular updates for a while. More on a schedule later.

Stiles spent the rest of that day sitting at his dad’s bedside, keeping up light conversation when the man was awake, feeding him muffins, and sitting as still as was possible for Stiles when he was asleep. Finally, Stiles began to feel tired himself, and went home, knowing that Mrs. McCall would throw him out of she came by and he was sleeping.

He drove home, taking side streets and prolonging the drive. He thought about driving past the preserve, but wasn’t quite ready to deal with that mountain of stress filled remembrance yet-at least not without Scott, anyway.

Stiles finally reached his house. He made some toast, not feeling very hungry after watching his dad lay sick in a hospital bed, but knowing that he needed to eat something with his first day of work being tomorrow.

He went to bed.

Stiles rolled out of his bed the next morning, knowing that he had slept at least ten hours, but not feeling rested at all. He slowly went through his morning routine, showering, brushing his teeth, and putting in his contacts, not rushing so that he wouldn’t have as much time to kill before his shift started. 

Finishing that, he returned to his bedroom down the hall. Oddly enough, his bedroom window was open. He vaguely recalled shutting it the night before, as he was tired enough to feel somewhat chilled. He closed the window firmly, knowing that having a window open during the day in the hot California summer would make the house far too hot to sleep in once he got home from his shift today. 

Twelve hours. That’s certainly a long shift. Or, longer than he’d ever worked before, doing odd jobs. Stiles supposed that he didn’t really know what was typical shift-wise for working in a pizza restaurant. Suddenly, he realized that he’d completely forgot to ask how much he’d be making at his new job.

“Idiot,” he thought to himself, “what kind of person forgets to ask how much they’ll be making?” He considered that maybe Rob would think that he was more invested in hard-work and experience than his wages, but Rob had put off a vibe that this kind of attitude was unlikely. 

He hoped that it was at least $9.25. He could be slightly above minimum wage. If he got 50+ hours, he could probably take home at least $400 a week, which would get them by. 

Stiles put on his old jeans and a wifebeater, figuring that he could slip the jacket on before he went into the building. The air conditioning was spotty in his jeep.

He went downstairs and ate an apple. He didn’t have much of an appetite. He made two ham sandwiches and stuck them in a baggy to have for lunch and dinner later, provided he got enough of a break to eat. It’s a Friday, so there’s probably going to be a lot of people ordering pizzas. 

Finally, there wasn’t much time left, and Stiles locked up, got in the jeep, and left for his first day at work.

Following a somewhat jittery drive, he parked in the back of the building and went inside. He didn’t see anyone, and since it just before 10, Damien wasn’t behind the host station Stiles slipped through a swinging door into the kitchen, and called out a quiet greeting. No one answered him. Stiles wasn’t quite sure what to do. 

He looked around the kitchen and saw a large pile of dirty pans. At least this, he knew how to do. Stiles quickly got to work cleaning the pans, scrubbing them, rinsing them, and then dumping them in what he found to be sanitizer. Stiles was quickly absorbed into the methodical work.

After what seemed like only a few minutes, Stiles washed the last pan in the pile. As he was about to start in on utensils, he heard a soft laugh behind him. He quickly swiveled around, and found that Rob was laughing at him.

“Well, kid, you sure know how to jump right in to things. Our busboy won’t have anything to do by the time he comes in!” 

Stiles blushed, he wasn’t sure if this had been outside the scope of his responsibilities, but didn’t want to be a time thief. “I came in at ten, but I couldn’t find anyone, so I figured I should get to work.”

“Good man,” Rob said as he clapped Stiles on the shoulder. “Let’s get you started with Damien on prep.” Keeping his hand on Stiles’s shoulder, Rob led him over to the other end of the kitchen to a slop sink. “Get your hands washed nice and well. No rings, no nails, no nail polish, so that you can go glove free. Keep your fingernails cut and clean.” Stiles quickly washed his hands, and then he started when he heard another voice behind him.

“Well, good morning, Stiles! How’re we doing today? Ready to make some pizzas?” Damien seemed somewhat more energetic today, looked a little bit more awake.


End file.
